


Baby I'm a Trainwreck Too

by Remy_Writes5



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Blow Jobs, Drinking, Drinking & Talking, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Getting Together, Locked In, M/M, Past Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Post-Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:21:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21781576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Remy_Writes5/pseuds/Remy_Writes5
Summary: A drunk Harry Potter shows up on Draco's doorstep because misery loves company.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 5
Kudos: 340





	Baby I'm a Trainwreck Too

Draco was ready to kill whoever was pounding on his door at three o’clock in the sodding morning. He thought even with his history the Ministry of Magic wouldn’t send him to Azkaban for using the killing curse on whoever was rudely at the door.

Stabbing his arms into his dressing gown, Draco went over to the door and wrenched it open. Harry fucking Potter of all people stood on the other side, leaning heavily against the doorframe. Okay, maybe the ministry would look down on Draco killing the Chosen One. Then again, it seemed Harry was unusually difficult to kill. If the Dark Lord hadn’t managed it, Draco hardly thought he’d be able to.

“Malfoy!” Harry slurred, barging his way into Draco’s flat.

“Potter…” Draco said slowly, closing the door behind them. Harry stumbled around for a bit, making Draco cringe every time he got close to a precious family heirloom, and finally flopped heavily onto the sofa. He was clearly drunk, his eyes glassy and unfocused, and his hair even more of a mess than usual. Draco cocked his head to the side and studied his former archrival. If only the Daily Prophet could have pictures of this – Saint Potter inebriated and lounging on a former Death Eater’s sofa – they’d have a bloody field day.

“Do you know what today is Malfoy?” Potter asked, kicking off his trainers. Draco winced at the amount of mud caked on the bottoms of them. He winced again when he saw Harry’s Holly Harpies socks. It made Draco think of that wretched Weasley girl, although if the Prophet were to be believed – which was almost never – Harry and the Weaslette had split a while back.

Draco sighed and rubbed his temples. Even though sleep still evaded him most nights, it didn’t mean he wanted drunk wizards showing up at his flat at all hours. He especially didn't want this particular drunk wizard on his doorstep. “I haven’t the foggiest, Potter.”

“Go on,” Harry said, waving his hand encouragingly. “I’ll give you three guesses.”

Draco really wasn’t in the mood for games. But Harry Potter was in his flat, out of sorts and vulnerable, and for the moment that was intriguing enough for Draco to play along. His mind raced for a moment to recall the date. It was near the end of October, the very end, which meant… “It’s the anniversary of your parent’s death.”

“Ding ding ding!” Harry said, shoving his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Got it in one, Malfoy. Ten points to Slytherin. I bet your dad and his lot loved that. Probably threw a big celebration that night. Two members of the Order out of the way.”

“Well no, Potter, if you recall that was also the night the Dark Lord fell,” Malofy said, rolling his eyes. “So I doubt they were all that pleased about it.”

Harry made a funny buzzing noise with his lips. “I suppose that’s true.”

Draco had quite enough. It was a bit late for a pity party with Harry Potter of all people. If it was comfort Potter wanted, he’d be better off going to just about anyone else. “Why are you _here, _Potter?”

Harry fixed Draco with a stare, his green eyes suddenly gone hard behind his glasses. “I was miserable so I got pissed,” Harry explained. “But that didn’t help so I thought where do people go to be miserable? Malfoy’s!”

Draco tried and failed to not take offense at that. “It’s a good thing you came here then instead of the manor,” Draco said dryly, crossing his arms over his chest. “I doubt my mother would have been quite as welcoming.”

“You call this welcoming?” Potter asked, raising an eyebrow. “You haven’t even offered me a drink!”

Draco pressed his mouth into a thin line. “That would imply you’re staying.”

Harry leaned forward, placing his elbows on his thighs, fixing Draco with a challenging stare. “Just try and get rid of me.”

Draco exhaled loudly and went into the kitchen. He waved his hand at the kettle and it began to heat. One cup of tea and then he was throwing Potter on his arse. It was more than the bastard deserved anyway. It wasn’t like every bloody wizard family in Britain wouldn’t line up to give Harry sodding Potter a cup of tea.

Draco turned around and nearly jumped out of his skin when he found Harry standing right behind him. “What the fuck, Potter!”

Harry frowned. “Haven’t you got anything stronger than tea?”

“I think you’ve had quite enough alcohol,” Draco said firmly.

Harry’s eyes darted around behind his glasses, examining Draco’s face. Draco wished he were better at Legilimency so he could read Potter’s mind. Although he thought getting lost in Potter’s mind at the moment would be absolutely maddening. He was lost in his own thoughts and didn’t noticed Harry leaning closer until he could smell alcohol on Harry’s breath. Draco barely had a moment to register what was happening before Harry was kissing him.

Draco froze for a few seconds, his mind whirling with questions, and then he reacted. He shoved Harry back, taking some satisfaction at watching Harry stumble. “What the hell, Potter!”

Harry scowled at him. “What?” he snapped back.

“What are you doing?”

“I –“ Harry looked away, his jaw clenched. “Good story for the Prophet, eh? Harry Potter likes men! Bisexual boy who lived.”

Draco had to bite his lip to keep from grinning. Lips that moments ago had been touching Harry Potter’s lips. They still tingled a bit. Merlin’s beard. “If you think I would read that drivel, let alone give them a story, you’re out of your mind, Potter.”

The kettle began to whistle and Draco carefully slid past Harry to get two cups down from the shelf. He dropped a teabag into each and then poured the water over it. He could feel Harry watching him, his gaze almost like a physical weight on Draco’s skin. “So why did you kiss me then?” Draco couldn’t help himself from asking. “Years of pent up regression finally bubbling to the surface? Or am I just that enticing that you couldn’t help yourself?”

“Don’t be a prat, Malfoy,” Harry said, walking over and standing beside him. “Although for you it’s probably habit by now.”

“Likewise,” Draco shot back, watching Harry smile faintly. It had been four years since he’d last attended Hogwarts with Potter and yet they still couldn’t help falling into their old schoolyard bickering. Something about it was almost comforting. “Cream and sugar?”

“Both please.”

Draco fixed Harry his tea and then slid the mug over to him. He poured sugar into his own tea and stirred it slowly, mostly because it gave him an excuse not to look at Harry.

“Do you hate me?” Harry asked softly.

“What kind of a question is that, Potter?” Draco asked, turning his head and giving Harry a look of utter disdain.

“Well?” Harry asked, watching Draco expectantly.

“Sometimes,” Draco said with a noncommittal shrug. Since the war, Potter, Weasley and Granger had started almost an outreach programme, helping people whose lives were destroyed by the war regardless of side. It had made Draco feel like their pet project but Draco hardly would have been employable without Harry backing him. Sometimes the knowledge of that had Draco seething with anger. He and Potter weren’t exactly friends but they tolerated each other on occasion. Now that apparently included late night visits and cups of tea with impromptu kissing.

“Malfoy –“

Draco sighed heavily. “Can we not? It’s late, Potter, and you’re in no condition to have this kind of conversation. Best leave it for now.”

Harry looked about to argue but Draco grabbed his arm and dragged him towards the guest bedroom. Harry shuffled after him, making an indignant sound at being manhandled. Draco shoved him into the room and began helping him undress, not trusting Potter to manage it himself. By the time he’d gotten Harry’s jumper off and went for his belt, he noticed Potter was flushed down to his chest and there was quite an impressive bulge at his crotch.

Draco felt his mind overload with information for a moment and realized he was still holding Harry’s belt, his fingers mere inches from Harry’s very obvious erection. He risked a glance towards Harry’s face and found Potter staring at him. “I haven’t had sex in over a year,” Harry confessed, meeting Draco’s gaze almost defiantly, as if daring him to say something scathing.

“Well you’re not breaking your dry spell tonight, Potter,” Draco shot back, deftly undoing Harry’s belt and then undoing the top button of his jeans. Harry’s hand shot out and wrapped around Draco’s wrist.

“I think I’ve got it from here,” Harry said almost breathlessly.

“Right,” Draco said, carefully removing his hand. “Then I’ll say good night, Potter.”

“Good night, Malfoy.”

Draco hurried from the room, being sure to shut the door behind him to give Potter some privacy. He went into the bathroom and shoved his hands down his own trousers, wrapping his long thin fingers around his cock. He was almost angry with his body for reacting in such a way to Harry Potter of all people. Not that he hadn’t wanked over Potter before, as there had been some fantastic fantasies he’d had at school. It was quite another thing to be this turned on based on the fact that he had turned Harry on in the first place.

He let his mind wander back to the kitchen where Harry had kissed him. He let it play out different in his head, pressing Potter against the kitchen counter and fucking him roughly while Potter begged for it. Draco came with a gasp, tugging his cock to completion. As he washed the evidence away in the sink, he wondered if Harry was doing the same.

Draco got his answer when he left the bathroom just in time to see Harry slip out of the guest bedroom. In just his pants, Draco could see the flush of Harry’s skin, the bite marks on Harry’s lips, and the waning erection. Harry ducked his head down and went into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. Draco went into his own bedroom and spent the night wondering if he should have let himself have this one thing or if it would have made everything a million times worse to give in to Harry Potter.

***

The next morning Draco awoke first, checking in on Harry and finding the idiot still passed out. Draco took a quick shower and got dressed before heading into the kitchen. One of the things he had learned from living alone, without the aid of house elves, was that he quite liked cooking. It had turned into something of a hobby of his. It was Saturday, so he didn’t exactly have anywhere to be. He could only hope that when Potter awoke, he would have some pressing engagement and vacate the premises. Perhaps a ribbon cutting ceremony or some babies to kiss, whatever it was saviors did on the weekend.

To his very great dismay, Potter emerged from the guest bedroom in just his pants. He yawned as he walked, scratching his head, his fingers getting lost in his absolutely wild hair. “Good morning,” he said cheerfully.

“You’re awfully chipper this morning,” Draco said, trying and failing to not look at the alarming amount of skin Potter currently had on display. “I would have thought you’d be terribly hungover.”

Harry grinned as if he knew something Draco didn’t, the smug arsehole, leaning against the kitchen counter next to where Draco was making bacon and eggs. “Are you actually _cooking, _Draco?” Potter asked, clearly scandalized. “If Witch’s Weekly found out that you cook you’d be sure to make it into this year’s Hottest Bachelor Wizards.”

“A list you’ve been number one in for the past three years running,” Draco scoffed, transferring some bacon onto a plate and slapping Potter’s hand when he tried to reach for it.

Potter gave him a sour expression in return. “I don’t enjoy that kind of thing, you know.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Sure you don’t.”

“I don’t,” Potter insisted, tugging his fingers through his hair. “It’s embarrassing. And imagine if they found out I like cock. I’m not sure if that would put me down a few places or not.”

“Don’t worry, Potter, I’m sure your sparkling reputation is safe no matter what kind of genitals you like,” Draco drawled, divvying up the scrambled eggs between the two plates.

“Even if they’re yours?”

Draco sputtered, caught off guard. “Excuse me?”

“Oh come on,” Harry said in exasperation. “I came onto you last night. This _cannot _be a surprise.”

“You were drunk last night.”

“Not as drunk as you think.”

Draco glowered at him. “Don’t be stupid, Potter.”

“Well apparently I can’t help myself,” Harry snarled back, grabbing his plate and biting a piece of bacon roughly. “Because I had to go and fancy you of all people instead of someone suitable and less obnoxious.”

“Suitable?” Draco echoed with a sneer to cover up the hurt in his voice at the insinuation. “Tell me, Potter what’s so unsuitable about me?”

Harry snorted. “Where would I even begin, Malfoy?”

“So you fancy me then?” Draco asked, carrying both plates over to the kitchen table. There was already two cups of coffee on the table and Draco spooned some sugar into his own. “I knew you were an imbecile, Potter, but this just might take the cake.”

“I heard you tossing one off in the bathroom last night,” Harry said, stabbing at some of his eggs a bit more forceful than was strictly necessary. “So apparently I’m not the only idiot here.”

Draco felt his cheeks heat with embarrassment. He should have cast a silencing charm. If he’d had his wits about him a bit more he would have remembered that. It wasn’t like him to be so careless.

Draco was about to come up with a scathing retort when a flash of something by his front window caught his eye. He stood up, thinking Zabini’s stupid owl had gotten turned around again. He pushed aside the curtains and was met with about six or seven different reporters standing on the sidewalk outside his flat. When they noticed him at the window, they all turned and began flashing pictures.

“What is it?” Harry called out, making his way over.

“Get _down _you idiot!” Draco hissed, diving for the sofa and pulling Harry down with him. Draco ended up on his back with Harry on top of him. The last thing he needed was the papers getting a picture of Harry in just his pants at Draco’s flat. “How did they even know you were here?”

“They follow me a lot,” Harry explained with a small shrug. “Someone must have seen me come here last night. Normally I’m a lot better at giving them the slip but last night I wasn’t paying that much attention. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’ve been camped out for a while.”

Draco growled angrily. “Well that’s just great, Potter! Why did you have to come to my flat? Now when you leave every wizard paper in Britain is going to have a picture of it.”

“I’ll just apparate home,” Harry said, fixing his glasses from when he’d been yanked down.

“You can’t,” Draco snapped at him. Stupid Potter always ruining his life. “There’s wards on my flat that prevent anyone apparating in or out.”

“Why?”

Draco huffed, his exhale of breath causing Harry’s fringe to blow up and reveal his scar for a moment. “Gee, Potter, why would an ex-Death Eater prefer that strangers not be able to randomly appear inside his house?”

“Floo Network then?”

“My flat isn’t hooked up to it for the same reason!” Draco said, quickly losing his patience. Potter was still only clad in his underwear, currently lying on top of Draco, his face uncomfortably close.

“Uh, back door?” Harry suggested, looking uncertain.

“There is one way in and out of this flat, Potter,” Draco said, sighing heavily. “It’s the front door.”

Harry’s face paled for a moment before it hardened into a look of grim determination. “Well then I’m not leaving.”

Draco blinked a few times. “Well you can’t stay here.”

Harry frowned. “What choice do I have?”

“No!” Draco said, shaking his head emphatically. “Absolutely not, Potter! You are not _staying _here! Besides, they clearly already know you’re here. The longer you stay the more it looks like…like…”

“Like we’re shagging each other’s brains out?”

Draco narrowed his eyes. “It will look like a Lover’s weekend, Potter,” Draco said, shoving Harry off of him roughly and causing Harry to drop onto the floor.

Harry scowled at him from where he’d landed less than gracefully. “Maybe I could send an owl to Ron or Hermione and they could bring me my invisibility cloak.”

Draco fought the urge to roll his eyes. “If you think that owl would get anywhere without being intercepted you’re a fool.”

Harry groaned in frustration. “Well what’s your bright idea then?”

Draco fell silent, chewing on his bottom lip as he tried to think of some way to slip Harry out unnoticed. He knew from experience that the press had no scruples when it came to privacy and would have no problem waiting as long as it took to get their story.

“Are you any good a disillusionment charms?” Draco finally asked, wracking his brain for a solution that wasn’t Harry Potter staying at his flat for the foreseeable future.

Harry cringed slightly. “I haven’t had to cast one since I was hunting Horcruxes,” he confessed. “And I’ve never cast one on myself. I don’t know how successful it would be. I’d probably get ten steps and reappear like a nob.”

Draco pursed his lips together unhappily. He waved his hand and the curtain closed itself again. Sliding gracefully to his feet, he went into the kitchen and decided that if there was nothing to be done then he was just going to enjoy his breakfast. He dropped heavily back into his chair and did a quick heating charm on his food that had gone cold.

Harry joined him a few moments later and warmed up his own food. They sat in silence, eating their breakfast and drinking their coffee. If Draco closed his eyes it almost felt like he was blissfully alone and not in the company of one of the most infuriating people he had ever met.

It was still unbelievably surreal having Harry there with him. Whenever Harry had come before, it had always been with Granger and Weasley in tow. Draco didn’t think Potter had the stomach to come alone and yet here he was. He blundered into Draco’s flat like the great big oaf he was with no regard for what it might do to Draco to have him here. Or what would happen to Draco if the papers found out about it. He’d be crucified for it, probably accused of using a love potion on Potter, or some kind of dark magic.

Not that anything was going to happen between him and Potter. It was resolutely not going to happen in a million years. He would rather shag a hippogriff than Potter. That wouldn’t stop rubbish like the Daily Prophet from printing about it though.

“So…” Harry broke the silence, tracing his finger over the top of his coffee mug. Apparently the boy who lived was also the boy who wouldn’t shut the hell up. “Why aren’t you married?”

Draco stared at him incredulously. “Can we not?”

Harry slumped down in his chair. “We’re stuck here for a while at least. We might as well talk about something.”

Draco scrubbed his hand down his face. “I’m not married because I don’t want to be. Alright?”

“Why don’t you want to be?”

Draco should have known that wouldn’t be the end of it. He decided to play off his discomfort by joking. “Potter, if you want to propose, you’re going to have to get my parent’s permission – “

“Should I send a letter to Azkaban or will just your mum’s permission do?” Harry asked with a wry smile.

Draco scowled at him in response, all good humor leaving him. “You’re not funny, Potter.”

“I’m a bit funny,” Harry said, bringing his mug to his lips and draining the contents. “I’m pretty sure you just don’t have a sense of humor.”

Draco shoved his plate away, having lost his appetite. He got to his feet and stomped down to his bedroom, slamming the door shut after him. He may have been stuck with Harry Potter in his flat but that didn’t mean that Draco had to spend every sodding minute with him. Harry bloody Potter could just entertain himself for a while.

“Oi Malfoy, having another wank?” Harry called through the door.

“Piss off, Potter,” Draco shouted back. “You are the most obnoxious, self-serving, unbelievably thickheaded tosspot I’ve ever had the misfortune to know.”

Harry opened the door, leaning against the frame casually with his arms crossed. “Charming,” he said sardonically. “What did I say that set you off this time?”

Draco sat up in his bed and glared at Potter from across the room. “My marital status is none of your business. My life in general is none of your business. Just because you barged into my flat doesn’t mean you’re allowed into my life, Potter.”

“Look, I know you’re annoyed that we’re trapped in here but it’s not going to go by any faster by being nasty to me. Trust me, I had a very long childhood.”

Draco sneered. “It’s ongoing Potter because you’re still a child.”

“I’m not the one having a strop in his bedroom,” Harry said with a smirk. Draco very much wanted to walk over and slap it off Potter’s face. He imagined it would make a very pleasing sound and cause a very nice mark on Potter’s cheek. “Is now one of those times when you hate me?”

Draco snarled at Harry in response. “Well spotted, Potter.”

Harry sighed. “Fine, I’ll leave you be. Let me know when you’re through having your little tantrum.”

Harry turned around and closed the door behind him. Draco could hear his footsteps and he retreated to the guest room. Finally, Draco had some peace and quiet. He founded he hated Potter all the more for it.

***

Draco had about half an hour without Potter breathing down his neck before the Savior appeared back in his doorway. “I’m bored.”

Draco closed the book on rare potions he’d been reading and raised an eyebrow at Harry. “You’re always welcome to leave and find entertainment elsewhere.”

Harry rolled his eyes and stepped into the room. Draco watched in horror as Potter came over and crawled onto the bed, sitting at the end of it and looking at Draco. “There’s twice as many reporters as there were this morning,” Harry informed him.

Draco groaned in frustration. He’d never be rid of Potter if this kept up. It seemed Potter hand managed to put his shirt back on although he still hadn’t bothered with trousers. “This is intolerable.”

“So why do you hate me?” Harry asked, stretching his legs out and crossing them at the ankles.

Draco pressed his lips together to keep from dropping his jaw at such an impertinent question. “You can’t be serious.”

Harry shrugged. “You don’t want to shag, you don’t want to talk about marriage, neither of can see the weather so that’s out. Do you have a better idea for passing the time?”

“Fine, we can have sex if it will avoid this topic of conversation,” Draco shot back, hoping to dissuade Potter from asking. It wasn’t exactly something he wanted to get into.

Harry snorted in amusement. “Come on,” he prodded, poking Draco in the foot. Draco immediately pulled his knees up towards his chest, getting every part of him away from Potter. “I want to know.”

Draco winkled his nose in distaste. He really would have shagged Potter instead of answer the question. But he knew Potter was a stubborn sod that wouldn’t drop it so awkward conversation it was. “You’re Harry Potter,” Draco said simply.

“And that’s reason enough to hate me?”

“I’m not done,” Draco snapped at him. Honestly, Harry was absolutely infuriating. Draco wondered how Weasley and Granger could stand it. “You saved everyone at Hogwarts, year after year, defeating the Dark Lord. It was the one thing you were good for at school and you always came through except for me. You never saved me.”

Draco risked a glance at Harry and noticed his jaw was dropped in surprise. Whatever he had been expecting Draco to say, school rivalry or some such thing, it hadn’t been what he’d thought. “And when was I meant to do that?”

“Sixth year,” Draco answered smoothly. “My father got sent to Azkaban because of you and I was forced to take his place. Prove my family’s worth to the Dark Lord and kill Dumbledore. All fucking year I thought this won’t happen. I won’t even get near Dumbledore. Harry Potter will save the day as usual.”

Harry had turned his face away, his jaw set in a harsh line. “How was I supposed to work all that out, Malfoy?”

“I thought you’d notice. Stupid really, but I thought maybe once I stopped doing Quidditch you’d realize something was off, or perhaps when I stopped our usual banter. No, the Great Harry Potter didn’t notice all my cries for help.”

“I was just a kid back then,” Harry said defensively. “I had a lot going on. I was paying attention, Draco. I just thought you’d become a Death Eater. I didn’t think there was anything more to it. I thought you were happy to be fulfilling your father’s legacy.”

Draco continued on as if Potter hadn’t spoken. It was easier that way and he hadn’t finished speaking his piece. “Then when we dueled in the bathroom and you nearly killed me, I think I hated you most of all for not finishing me off,” Draco confessed softly. “I wanted to die so badly. It would have been a relief. You couldn’t give me that either.”

“Draco, I…” Harry pushed his glasses up to his forehead and rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes hard. He wiped away the tears quickly as if he was embarrassed to let Draco see them. “Fuck.”

“I am glad to still be alive,” Draco told him, letting Potter off the hook just slightly. “Despite everything.”

Harry replaced his glasses and fixed Draco with a hard stare. “That’s so unbelievably shite for you to put all that on me. As if it wasn’t enough that I had a raving lunatic continuously trying to kill me almost every year, I was also supposed to look out for the one person who made my life miserable? You broke my bloody nose, as you might recall, and left me on the train that year. I was supposed to take that as you being odd? It felt more like you just being your usual terrible self. And I did save you, as you well know, and destroyed Voldemort so you’re welcome for that as well. Don’t you dare ask me to apologize for not killing you because I won’t. You can just shove it up your arse, Malfoy.”

Draco blinked a few times, caught off guard by Potter’s little outburst. “Well if that’s how you feel about me then why do you fancy me?” he finally asked, unsure what else to say.

“I really don’t know,” Harry said, shaking his head. “You drive me round the twist. You’ve got backwards views on just about everything. You’re unpleasant and argumentative.” Harry stopped for a moment and his lips twitched into a small smile. “I think there’s a part of me that just can’t let things be easy. Things with Ginny were easy and I was always waiting for something to go wrong. We could have gotten married, had a couple of kids, been one big happy family. But I don’t trust it when I’m happy. ”

“So you’re into me because you want to be unhappy,” Draco said, snorting with derision. “You really are ridiculous, Potter.”

“I’m always used to there being a next crisis,” Harry told him, sliding his legs back behind him and then crawling towards Draco. He stopped when he was a few mere inches from Draco. Up close his eyes looked so bloody green that they’re almost startling to look at.

“So I’m the next crisis then?” Draco said as evenly as he could considering Potter was right in his face, their breath mingling, making Draco’ far begin to race.

“Absolutely,” Harry whispered, capturing Draco’s lips in a bruising kiss. Draco gasped – the sound of it swallowed up by Potter’s eager kisses – his mouth opening and Potter invading it like he’d managed to do with everything else. Harry gently pushed Draco down against the pillows and settled on top of him, the kisses remaining deep and all consuming.

With Potter in so little clothes it was easy for Draco to slide his hand under Harry’s t-shirt and touch his skin. He let his fingers slide slowly up Harry’s spine before easing back down. Harry shivered against him, fisting one of his hands in Draco’s hair, giving it a slight tug that had Draco moaning.

Draco broke the kiss, turning his head to the side and panting. Harry continued is onslaught, kissing along Draco’s jawline and down to his neck. Draco realized he was in entirely too many clothes for the proceedings and began to unbutton his shirt. Harry batted his hand away and started tugging the buttons loose from the holes, kissing down Draco’s chest. He made a broken noise as he got to the scars Draco had from the spell Harry had cast that nearly killed him.

Harry brushed his fingers over it softly as if he touched them with enough reverence they might disappear on their own. His eyes flickered up to meet Draco’s and the heated expression from moments ago was gone and replaced with something unbelievably sad. Draco worried for a moment it was pity but at a closer look it seemed something more like guilt. Draco wasn’t interested in either so he rolled his hips suggestively. “Come on, Potter, I believe you were on your way to sucking my cock.”

A slow smile spread over Harry’s face and Draco nearly sighed in relief. Harry moved lower, settling between Draco’s legs, and rubbed his face against Draco’s cock. “I think, under the circumstances, you could call me Harry.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “I’ll call you whatever I like.”

Harry’s eyebrow quirked up in amusement as he quickly undid Draco’s flies, shoving his trousers and pants down in one go. “What would you like to call me then?” Harry asked, licking a stripe up the underside of Draco’s cock and making Draco whine at how obscene that looked. His cock twitched with interest, a bit or precum dribbling out of the tip.

Draco undid the last few buttons on his shirt – a task Potter had abandoned halfway through – and shoved it off his shoulders. “Wanker.”

Harry snorted. “Try again,” he teased, his tongue doing the same to the tip of Draco’s cock, lapping teasingly at his foreskin.

Draco hissed and bucked his hips in need towards Harry’s mouth. “Bastard.” The word slipped from Draco’s mouth before he could think better of it. Harry grinned mischievously and threw his forearm over Draco’s abdomen, pinning him to the bed. He began to take Draco apart with his mouth, sucking kisses on the side of his shaft, soft little licks to his bollocks, pushing the foreskin down and swirling his tongue over the head. Draco had to force his eyes from closing, the teasing pleasure of it making his eyes want to roll back into his head, but not wanting to miss a moment of Harry Potter playing with his cock. “Umph, Harry – “ Draco finally grunted out when it got to be too much.

Harry grinned approvingly and finally – _finally –_swallowed Draco down, taking him a little over halfway before gagging a bit and backing off. Draco couldn’t help smirking at the idea that Harry Potter was currently choking on his cock. He couldn’t help thinking of all the reporters outside and how much they’d pay to get this story. But this was just for Draco and he realized that he and Harry had a secret together.

All those years he’d wanted Potter as his friend – and then had turned into just wanting him when he discovered he liked blokes – he’d let himself daydream of having just a fraction of this. It was something his Aunt Bella had tortured him about endlessly during their Occlumency lessons. Every time she invaded his mind – even the deepest corners where he tried to keep these feelings hidden – she’d find some thought or memory of Harry and force Draco to face it, laughing that cackle of hers. Then there’d been the war and the trial and there hadn’t been time for daydreams.

“Hey,” Harry said, resting his cheek on Draco’s thigh. Draco hadn’t even noticed Harry pull off his cock. “Where did you go just now?”

Draco shook his head. He’d rather go outside and streak naked for the reporters before he’d tell Harry any of that. “I thought you’d be better at this,” Draco said snidely, his face falling into an impassive mask.

Harry glared at him and shuffled up, pressing his lips to Draco’s in a way that was not sweet or gentle but rough and biting. “You ungrateful shit,” Harry growled, digging his nails into the tender flesh of Draco’s nape and making Draco shudder. “See if I ever suck your cock again.”

Draco pulled back and gripped Harry around the middle, rolling them to switch places. “Shall I show you how it’s done, Potter?” Draco was thankful for the chance to not have to speak. The last thing he needed was to say something stupid and ruin this. He tugged Potter’s boxers down and off to come an up close look at the Chosen One’s cock. Draco had to stamp down the feeling of hysteria bubbling up inside him. He was in bed with Harry Potter, about to put his dick in his mouth. If only his fourteen-year-old self could see him now.

As far as cocks went it seemed Potter’s was fairly ordinary. Draco was pretty sure his own cock was longer than Potter’s – which he took a moment to feel smug about – but Harry’s was undeniably thicker. The foreskin was already retracting a bit to reveal the head. Draco wrapped his lips around it and gave it an experimental suck. Harry gasped above him and Draco had to keep from smiling.

Unlike Potter, Draco didn’t bother with teasing. He swallowed Harry down, his throat muscles fluttering at the intrusion as Harry’s cock pressed back against them. “Oh shit,” Harry cursed above him. Draco pulled back slowly, hollowing his cheek to give Harry one long, hard suck and felt liquid on his tongue as more precum came from the tip.

Draco was good at this, he knew he was good at this. Zabini had begged Draco to suck him off almost daily after the first time he’d done it. In sixth year when he’d been confused and hating himself, getting lost in physical pleasure had been the only release Draco had found from the torment of what he had been ordered to do.

He found sucking Potter off to be much more pleasurable than Blaise. Perhaps it was the actual interest in getting Potter off that added to the sensations, listening to each exhale and curse word that slipped from Harry’s mouth as Draco took him deep into his mouth. It spurred on Draco’s own arousal and Draco found himself fisting his cock with need.

The heady scent of Potter filled his nostrils until there was nothing but Harry, surrounding him and invading his ever sense. His jaw ached from the stretch but he wouldn’t stop. He had a point to prove, damn it, and he was going to get Potter off. He glanced up and found Potter staring at him, eyes wide behind his glasses, his jaw dropped and breathing too hard to keep it closed.

Their eyes met and it felt like some ignited between them. Harry let out a low moan and then his cock was twitching and spilling down Draco’s throat. It only took two more strokes and Draco was coming as well, his mouth still working Harry through the aftershocks as his release coated his hand.

Draco pulled off and rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling with his legs dangling off the bed. He wasn’t sure he could look at Harry – maybe ever again. Unfortunately, Harry apparently had no such hang-ups because Potter appeared in Draco’s field of view – upside down as he leaned over Draco. “Damn it, I wanted to get you off,” Harry said, his lower lip pouting slightly. “Oh well, there’s always next time.”

“Next time?” Draco echoed in surprise. He hadn’t exactly thought there would be repeat performances.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Yeah, next time,” he repeated, tugging on Draco’s arm until Draco moved and settled next to Harry on the bed. Potter arranged them so they were pressed up against each other with Potter half on top of him, one of Potter’s legs thrown of Draco’s, his arm around Draco’s middle.

He refused to stop kissing Draco but then again Draco wasn’t exactly protesting. In fact he couldn’t recall asking Potter to stop – and the way his hand was firmly in Potter’s hair, making sure Harry couldn’t go anywhere – might have given the impression that Draco didn’t want him to stop.

Harry did eventually break the kiss, an easy smile on his face as he did so. He looked so content that Draco hated to kill the mood but unfortunately it seemed to be what he did best. “You’re not actually dense enough to think this will actually work, are you?”

Harry’s face immediately fell and he slipped out of Draco’s embrace. “Why not?”

Draco groaned and scrubbed his hand over his face. Did he really need to explain this to Harry of all people? “Let’s start with this,” he said, thrusting his arm forward to show off the dark mark.

“Is that the best you’ve got?” Harry asked, crossing his arms over his chest stubbornly. “I don’t care about that.”

Draco sputtered for a moment, completely aghast. “You don’t – “

“No, I don’t,” Harry cut him off quickly. “It’s in the past Draco, he’s gone and you never were really subservient to him anyway. I saw you on the Astronomy Tower. If you’d really wanted to serve Voldemort you would have killed Dumbledore.”

Draco winced when Harry said Dumbledore’s name. “Just because I wasn’t good at being a Death Eater doesn’t make me any less of one.”

“Ex-Death Eater,” Harry reminded him gently. “Unless you’re still serving Voldemort after his death.”

“Of course not,” Draco snapped at him. “Don’t be stupid, Potter.”

“Then what else have you got?” Harry needled once again.

Draco put his arm down and chewed his bottom lip. “You don’t even like me. We’ll drive each other crazy.”

Harry scratched at his chin pensively as he mulled it over. “I wouldn’t say I don’t like you,” he finally responded. “I would say I don’t know you all that well. You still keep a lot hidden, Draco, even after all these years. I want to know more, though. There’s at least some potential, yeah?”

Draco stared at Potter in surprise. “And what if I end up making you happy? Will you get bored of me as well?" 

Harry scoffed. "That's not exactly likely, is it?" he teased, tugging his fingers through his hair. "Even when you're being pleasant you're still a disagreeable sod, rude and ill-tempered. I'm not exactly expecting it to be a walk in the park. I'm hoping it will at least get easier though. Anything else you've got?" 

"The papers -" 

Harry groaned before Draco even finished his thought. “That _cannot _be your excuse. The Daily Prophet has written so much awful shit about me that I’ve lost track. If a bit of bad press is enough to dissuade you then you’re a bloody coward, Malfoy.”

Draco had to admit it had been a bit of a stretch. While he knew there would be quite a bit of backlash over this, it would be nothing compared to previous times in his life. But this time there would be Harry and they’d be weathering it together. “You can’t be serious, Potter,” Draco said, shaking his head in disbelief. “You want to give this a proper go?”

Harry grinned. “Yeah, I do,” he said, pressing a kiss to the corner of Draco’s mouth. “I’m thinking Indian for lunch.”

“What?” Draco asked, feeling a bit like he was getting conversational whiplash.

Harry chuckled. “A date, Draco, you and me.”

“There’s still all the reporters outside,” Draco said, not about to entertain the idea that they’d given up and gone home. It would have taken quite a news story for that to happen and hardly anything was more newsworthy than Harry Potter.

“I know.” Harry slipped off the bed, pulling his pants up in a little hop movement that Draco did his best not to find kind of adorable. “Get dressed.”

Harry disappeared from the room and Draco listened as his footsteps went down the hall towards the guest bedroom. Draco performed a quick cleaning spell on himself and then got out of bed. He went through his wardrobe for something appropriate to wear. He assumed it was some Muggle place that Potter was taking him to and he figured he should dress accordingly.

He pulled out a blue button down shirt and a pair of grey trousers. Decently muggle-ish and Draco assumed appropriate date attire. He hadn’t actually been on a whole lot of those. He knew he’d guessed right when Harry appeared back in the doorway a few minutes later, just as Draco was stepping into his shoes.

“Fuck,” Harry breathed out, his eyes dragging over Draco greedily. “Maybe lunch was a bad idea.”

Draco scoffed. “I didn’t get all dressed up just to stay in, Potter,” he said haughtily, raking a comb through his hair. “I deserve to be shown off.”

Harry grinned as Draco walked over. “Fine,” he conceded, undoing the top button on Draco’s shirt so it was no longer buttoned up to this throat. “But I might not be responsible for my actions once we get back here.”

“Very presumptuous of you, Potter,” Draco said, straightening Harry’s glasses on his face. “That I’m going to invite you home with me after our date.”

Harry laughed, the sound of it rich and genuine, and something like pride swelled in Draco’s chest that he’d been the cause of it. “I’d say my chances are pretty good.”

“We’ll see,” Draco said, slipping past Harry and out into the hallway. Harry followed him and they stood together at the front door. Draco glanced at Harry nervously, wondering if perhaps Harry was having second thoughts. “We won’t be able to disapparate until we’re a block from my flat. Tell me now if you want to make a run for it.”

Harry smiled and held his hand out. “No need,” he said softly. “I’m supposed to be showing you off, right?”

Draco took Harry’s hand, warm and solid in his own, holding it tightly. “Come on, Potter. Your public awaits.”

Harry opened the door and tugged Draco through it. The flashing of the cameras was almost blinding and the shouts of the reporters calling out questions was almost deafening. Draco fought the urge to got back inside and slam the door. Instead Harry guided him forward, Potter ignoring all the questions being slung his way, no matter how invasive or rude they were. Harry kept his shoulders back and his head high as if daring them to print one bad word against him.

Harry turned his head and smiled warmly at Draco and Draco couldn’t help finding it infectious, a smile spreading across his own face. “Are you sure about this, Harry?” Draco asked, his eyes darting around to all the cameras currently taking their picture.

Harry laughed. “Not in the least, but I want it anyway,” he said, heading up the block as the mob of reporters followed after them.

"I want it too," Draco confessed. He realized that Harry was still holding his hand as they walked together up the street. Draco concentrated on bits of Harry at a time in order to block out the noise of the reporters. The way Harry’s hair curled over his ears, the way his lightening scar was just barely peeking out from under his fringe, the wrinkles in his t-shirt from wearing it two days in a row.

Harry stopped on the corner where they would finally be able to disapparate. Harry tugged on Draco’s arm until they were standing together facing each other. “In for a penny, right?” Harry said, glancing up at Draco with a knowing smile.

Draco’s brow furrowed in confusion until Harry leaned forward and kissed him. The flashes on the cameras went crazy to capture the moment. Draco slid his eyes shut and tried to block out everything that wasn’t Harry. Harry pulled back and laughed softly before disapparating them both, their bodies twisting around each other, the rest of the world falling away until it was just the two of them. 

Draco knew there would be quite a story of them in the papers the next day, but they wouldn't be reading it anyway. Draco found he had something a lot more interesting to occupy his time now. He might have ended up picking up a copy of the Prophet, just to clip out the picture of their kiss. It was the only true part anyway. Draco barely recognized his own face, beaming at Harry in the split second before Harry had kissed him. He looked soppy and smitten, two things he had rarely been before. He had to admit it was quite a good look on him. While the picture was meant to be revealing, instead it just felt like another secret he and Harry shared. 


End file.
